The Ways In Which I Love Thee
by Platanos2.0
Summary: "Let me count the ways in which I love thee..." Uzumaki Naruto has never known love. True, he's familiar with the wizened guidance of Sandaime, but he's never truly known love. Not the love that fills, completes, breaks. Again, he's never known Hinata.
1. Family

**Title** The Ways in Which I Love Thee

**Disclaimer** Naruto and all affiliated trademarks belong to Kishimoto. All original ideas, characters, concepts and others not mentioned that appear in this story, are however, property of Platanos 2.0.

**Summary** "Let me count the ways in which I love thee…" Uzumaki Naruto has never known love. True, he's familiar with the patience and brotherly affection of one Umino Iruka and the distant, wizened guidance of Sandaime Hokage, but he's never truly, _really_ known _love_. Not the sort of love a parent showers on a child. The love shared between friends; and certainly not the unconditional, irrevocable, defying love between soul mates. No, Uzumaki Naruto has never known love, but then again he's never known Hyuuga Hinata.

**Notes** This is a two-shot (three-shot?) and my first (and probably last) venture into the Naruto fandom. The rest of the vignettes will be uploaded in a second or third chapter depending on the length but there will be no more. Just thought I'd give my props to this particular shipping.

**[Thanks for reading! Enjoy and leave a review if you can! :)]**

_The Ways in which I Love Thee_

By the time Uzumaki Naruto was three, all small stubby limbs, sun-kissed hair and full set of decidedly sharp teeth, he knew a few rather important things about the world. Even before the day one infamous Uchicha Sasuke became aware of his unconscious bitterness and envy of his brother, even before one Nara Shikamaru realized the world was a truly troublesome place and far before one Hyuuga Hinata could even spell the word defeat, one Uzumaki Naruto was already read and versed in the hard lessons life had to teach. He knew three very important things.

One: the caretakers at the orphanage were not to be bothered; for _anything_. Not even if the cooks had denied him lunch and dinner in a row; not even if Eri had stolen his blanket; not even if Hideki had shoved him hard enough to break skin and stain his shirt with that bright red stuff that hurt to look at, hurt to touch and tasted too much like metal. Two: the children at the orphanage were to be avoided; at _all_ costs. Except maybe Makoto who was nice—but only because he didn't do much except draw and color and paint. And last, but certainly not least, at the end of the day, the end of the week, the end of the month there was no one. There would be no one. And as the caretakers drilled into his skull, there _had_ been no one. No one came. And certainly no one would ever come. Not for him. Not for Uzumaki Naruto, the boy with the hair like spun gold and eyes like the bluest skies and the brightest stones. Well, of course, the old man came, but then the old man came for _everyone_ as young Shota Kenichi was quick to tell him after roughing him up a bit. So, no, unfortunately, the kindly old man with the face tight with so many lines it made Naruto wonder how he managed to smile, did not count.

And it was the realizations of these three, essentially simple things that helped young Naruto weather his remaining years in the two story building with the slanted roofs and the creaky second-floor stairs. They helped him get through the countless lonely nights when all the others had been fed, read to and tucked in while he'd only been given two disparaging looks—one if he behaved and didn't start fights with Toshi and his friends—and a not-so-gentle shove into his cot. They helped him turn a blind eye to how lonely and quiet the orphanage was getting with so many kids just up and leaving. And honestly, just where did they go? Why did they never come back? Toshi, days before leaving, had been kind enough to explain.

"I gots a family now you dumbass! I'm leaving this crap hole," he said, grinning a wide grin, face pulled so wide Naruto wondered if it hurt. The others had been in awe, congratulating Toshi and wishing him the best so Naruto thought it a good thing to leave. And so he wanted it to. He hoped for it. Hoped and prayed and whispered and even begged some nights to leave. To be allowed out through those gates with no intention of returning. To be able to say proudly to his cot mates that he, Uzumaki Naruto, who'd been there before them (and sadly would be there after them though young Naruto did not know this) had a family and was leaving this "crap hole." Though maybe not in those words because according to Natsumi, "crap" was a bad word. And Naruto didn't want to be a bad boy; bad boys didn't get breakfast, or lunch or dinner for that matter. They got sent to bed early, even if it was still light out and the other kids had yet to return from lessons. No, Uzumaki Naruto most definitely did not want to be a _bad boy_.

All for Family. Naruto, by the time he was four and walking and running and climbing and even leaping, realized with a deep, aching pang in his small chest that he wanted a family. The kind in the books the other kids were allowed to keep. The ones that had four people in them: a tall, strong man and a smaller, beautiful woman both of whom held the hands of two smaller people—children Naruto learned later—who looked like the man and woman and yet didn't. And the four people lived in a nice little house and according to the book, "ate dinner together and cleaned together. Because that's what families do. And then, when it was all done and everything was all clean, mommy and daddy tucked brother and sister to sleep. And brother and sister wished each other a very good night and mommy and daddy wished each other a very good night. And a very good night was had." To be honest, Naruto didn't understand what a family was (and it would be a very long time before he would) but he understood comfort and safety and security. He understood that daddy protected mommy and brother and sister; that mommy made delicious food for daddy and brother and sister; that brother and sister played together no matter what: on sunny days, cloudy days, rainy days, snowy days. And most importantly, even when mommy and daddy went away and brother and sister were off to play, at the end—even if it was the _very_ end—mommy and daddy and brother and sister always came back together to eat and talk and sleep.

Uzumaki Naruto understood this much and it was this knowledge, the foundation for future things to come, that he carried with him into his Academy years. The knowledge that safety, security, acceptance came from family and that families needed a mommy, a daddy and a brother and sister. And didn't the old man always say the villagers were a big family with the Hokage as the mommy and daddy (this exception had blown young Naruto away) and the villagers as the brothers and sisters. Naruto realized then, watching the way everyone, even Makoto who absolutely _hated_ listening to people, paid attention to the old man that family was what he wanted. What a needed so, so, so, so terribly much he would just die and waste and rot without it.

Yes, the plan was made and finalized.

He would be the Hokage; he would be the daddy _and_ the mommy (the technicalities of this would be dealt with later) and the villagers would be the brothers and sisters. They would all be a family. He would protect and provide and in turn would be loved and cared for and appreciated and most importantly, accepted. Because that is what family did. "Made of mommy and daddy and brother and sister, family loved and cared all the days of their lives." It didn't matter that everyone looked different and did different things. "Families are made of all shapes and sizes and colors and people. Family is love and love is family." Besides, everyone looking the same would be boring! Anyone and everyone could be in his family Naruto decided, wiping the tears from his dark face and biting down hard on his blanket to keep from crying out. No one would be left; no, not like how Eri and Kenichi left him out of playtime today or how no one sat by him during dinner or any time for that matter. Everyone would eat dinner together and go to bed together. Because that was what Family was. Together.

And with that, a dream was born.

By the time Konohagukure no Sato's North End District orphanage closed, Uzumaki Naruto's cot was the only one standing. Uzumaki Naruto's blanket was the only one folded. Uzumaki Naruto was the only one left. But that was OK. Absolutely OK, Naruto reasoned from his perch by the window. He watched Eri leave and stayed by the window until the horse-drawn cart was but a speck in the distance. Eri was gone, having been taken by a tall man with a block-shaped face and large, blistered fingers and a just as tall woman with an equally block-shaped face and nicer hands. They were the Kishimoto family now.

No, Naruto thought with a sigh as he clambered down, careful of his footing. An accident would only anger the caretakers. He was taller now. His hair fell down into his eyes and even though he was supposed to get it cut, he wouldn't. Not unless he wanted to break one of the rules. No, Naruto was quite alright with being the last one there because, in a Family, sometimes mommy was the only one home while daddy went out to work and brother and sister went out to play. But mommy never stayed alone for long; in the end, daddy and brother and sister _always_ came back to be with her. _Always_.

Naruto was no exception. A week later, the old man came by and stretching out his arms with the speckled and folded skin asked kindly, "Naruto, how would you like to leave today?" It was then that Naruto knew; knew with every fiber of his being, ever hair on his head, every cell in his body _knew_ that the old man was Family.

#

By the time Uzumaki Naruto was eleven, he'd decided on his Mommy.

He'd seen her on his first day of ninja academy.

He was nervous, of course; this was his first time going to school—ever. He dearly hoped the kids wouldn't be like the ones at the orphanage. He really wanted to make some friends; someone to hang out with and talk to and play with would be nice. The old man assured him there were tons of new friends to be made so 11-year-old Uzumaki Naruto gathered his courage and with his chest puffed out and his eyes squinted in that familiar owlish fashion, stomped and tripped and stalked his way to Ninja Academy.

The classroom was big and spacious and filed with so many desks and tables Naruto couldn't believe his eyes. All the children were already gathered, some talking excitedly and others goofing off. Naruto noticed one boy with wild hair and weird red markings on his dark face eagerly showing off a small white puppy. "His name's Akamaru!" the boy proudly declared, holding out the excited animal who in turn yipped in greeting. One of the other boys, his hair pulled into a spiky ponytail muttered something like, "troublesome," and then promptly fell asleep on his desk. A boy eating chips straight out of the bag laughed and returned to his food. The boy with the dog made a face then and started yelling but the sleeping boy did not budge; he must've been really tired, Naruto thought. Naruto stared for a while longer, unsure of whether to go forward and see if they noticed him and invited him to join them or perhaps wait by the door and avoid trouble.

He decided to stay by the door.

There were girls too. Short girls, tall girls, skinny girls, not so skinny girls; girls with flowing black hair and some with short, cropped black hair (that almost looked blue even!) all laughing, talking, giggling huddled as they were on the other side of the corner. Naruto noticed two girls in particular first. One was tall, the other short. The former had hair almost like his, but so much duller and the latter had hair such a particular pink color it made Naruto's heart catch. Her eyes were green; a clear, open, beautiful green that reminded Naruto of grass right after rain and her face was small and rounded. When she laughed, her eyes closed and she tilted her head to the side at such an angle it made her pretty pink hair fall over one shoulder. They reminded Naruto of sakura. She reminded Naruto of Sakura. Almost immediately, Naruto felt heat flooding his cheeks; he wrangled his fingers in his new orange jacket, terrified at how wet his palms were. Should he go over? Should he wave? Naruto was torn and it showed; his face twisted into an expression of agony so intense it seemed as though he were in pain. Finally, his decision was made when the blonde girl hugged the other girl close to her and laughed out, "Oh, Sakura, you're so funny!"

Sakura! Her name was Sakura! It was as if the Heavens had opened. Hair like sakura, face like sakura, named Sakura. Naruto sucked in a huge, rasping breath, eyes wide and fingers dropping to his sides. Then, suddenly, without ever meaning to, he found himself moving. Walking forward; one determined step at a time. He was a man on a mission; nothing would stop him. And finally, he reached their table; there were five of them and they all turned wide, curious and even annoyed eyes to him.

Naruto fidgeted and immediately lost his nerve. "Erm…um…H-hi?" he tried, voice raspy and quiet.

They rolled their eyes nearly simultaneously and returned to their discussion.

Naruto cleared his throat. Perhaps, they hadn't heard him. He would try once more, "Uh…um, Hi?" Still nothing. His hopes fell and he turned to leave when suddenly a loud, brazen shout of, "OI! OI! MICHIKO! WANNA BE MY WOMAN!" came from across the room. Naruto turned so fast he nearly tripped. The speaker was none other than the boy with the dog. He stood, hands on his hips and dog on his head, on top of a desk. He was grinning; real big and real wide looking for all the world like he Hokage himself!

"YEAH RIGHT, DOG BREATH! MY LOVE IS FOR SASUKE-KUN ONLY!" The girl in question, Michiko, stuck out her tongue and with a toss of her luxurious brown hair, returned to touching heads with the rest of her friends.

Naruto turned back to the girls; their giggling was higher now and one or two even leaned out of the circle to point and then giggle at a boy across the room. Naruto tilted his head to the side, interest piqued. Who was this Sasuke? How had that boy, "Dog Breath" managed to get their attention? Sasuke, Naruto figured out very quickly, was the top of the class. He was a pale-faced, dark haired boy with just as dark eyes and an almost arrogant tilt to his lips. Naruto frowned. Were all of these girls in love with that one boy? Impossible! He nearly laughed. In fact, he did. This seemed to get their attention.

"What're you laughing at?" The blonde girl asked, tone brooking no room for nonsense and hand perched authoritatively on curve-less hips.

Naruto started, unsure of what to say. And then a thought occurred to him and he pulled out a smile; a real, big, real wide one: a winning smile and said as loud as he possibly could, "I'M LAUGHIN' AT SASUKE!"

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say as suddenly, the room had gotten real quiet. Naruto laughed nervously. The girls had all gotten to their feet and were clenching their fists, expressions dark and eyes flashing dangerously. He took a cautious step back and then a bigger one.

Naruto tried again, "C'MON, C'MON, WHASSA MATTA'?"

"What's the matter?" the blonde shrieked, stalking forward. "How dare you insult Sasuke-kun you loser!" This seemed to be the cue as suddenly the rest were on him, including Sakura who looked positively livid with her face flushed a most unbecoming shade of red and her nostrils flaring and her eyes big and round like golf-balls.

"You jerk! Apologize, you good for nothing!" Sakura came forward and shoved him; hard. Pain exploded across his shoulder and made his arms tingle. He winced, moving backwards only to bump into a desk. He heard a squeak behind him but ignored it as Sakura and the blonde girl were closing in on him. His could barely tear his eyes away; how could something so beautiful be so deadly?

"Aren't you listening?" Sakura hissed, cracking her knuckles. "I. Said. Apo-lo-gize!" She gritted out each word slowly.

"B-but what did I do?" Naruto squeaked, face pale and lip quivering.

The blonde huffed, "What did you do? What did you do? You loser! Don't you know who Sasuke-kun is?"

No. He didn't. So he told them so. Sakura hit him again, this time he dodged so her fist only grazed his cheek. He felt blood explode in his mouth. She surely would've hit him once more if not for the teacher arriving. The man was tall and had a nasty looking scar stretched across his forehead. At first the man looked at him coldly his eyes flashing with that same deep emotion he'd seen in almost everyone's eyes. Naruto blinked back tears and hung his head. The man told him to leave; go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. So he left, but then paused at the door. The man began teaching; he introduced himself as Umino Iruka and told the class he was looking forward to a wonderful year. The class chorused a, "Yes, sensei," in reply. Sakura looked over to her left and then turned away when Sasuke returned her gaze; he grinned and she giggled.

Naruto frowned. His fingers curled into tight little fists and anger lit something hot and dark and savage in his body. The pain in his mouth had dulled to a meager throb and his shoulder felt fine. His eyes narrowed and before he realized it, he was marching back; he was on top of Sasuke's desk and his fist was flying across the boy's face with a triumphant war shriek.

Later, in the old man's face, both eyes swollen shut and nose a battered mess and head hanging dejectedly in shame, he would realize hate. Not true hate, because mind you, Naruto did not have enough experience or knowledge for that yet. But enough of it to know that he hated Uchiha Sasuke.

#

There was a reason one Uzumaki Naruto noticed one Haruno Sakura first. A reason not even he knew—at least until the pieces to the puzzle had been revealed. Her petal-soft hair that same shade of pink as her namesake and her sunny, out-going personality drew young Naruto like a moth to the flames. That bright smile and at times, lethal, energetic personality reminded him of a woman with hair several shades darker and several decibels louder and more energetic. Of a woman who had huffed and puffed and knocked her way through a certain blond, blue-eyed ninja's defenses to claim his heart several decades before him.

There was a reason Uzumaki Naruto's first love was Haruno Sakura.

But, as Naruto later learned, a first love is vastly different from a _true_ love.

#

Contrary to popular decision, Naruto's favorite color was not orange. Even though he wore it like a badge. In fact, his signature outfit was a matter of circumstance; it'd simply been the cheapest thing he could find. His favorite color was not orange because there were no other colors to choose from. Naruto at the time of deciding his favorite color knew enough about colors to know there were other, far more appealing hues to choose from. It was simply his favorite because it reminded him of nothing. Absolutely nothing. He _loved_ orange because it did not suffocate him, surround him, corner him and turn him into the raging beast he knew he was.

Green was for Konohagakure, the beloved village that surrounded him, hated him, trapped him, bound him. White was for the Hokage's robes. Blue was for the blue, blue, blue skies that surrounded the village. Brown was for chocolate whenever he could get the stuff and other times for the old man's face. Yellow was for wonderful, wonderful, _wonderful_ ramen wonderful because of its noodles and broth and naruto and nori. He especially loved miso ramen. Black was for the ANBU who sometimes chased him when the chuunin could not; honestly, they weren't much better at finding him and they weren't as fun or forgiving either. Gray was for the only ANBU that could catch him without any trouble and wasn't too mean about it either; his hair was gray and he giggled. A lot.

And Red? Red was for his dreams streaked bloody and fire and big red eyes. Pink was for Sakura. He hated pink but loved Sakura. Hated red because it made him feel empty and alone and cold even though fire was supposed to be warm. Pink like sakura. Red like blood. Pink like candy. Red like Sakura's face when she was especially mad. Sakura had pretty pink hair and wore a bright red dress. There were times Naruto really _hated_ Sakura. And this was the kind of hate that ran deep; ran hot and fast and made his eyes water and his body shake with the injustice of it all. It didn't help matters that red was what he saw when he looked at Sakura or Sasuke for too long.

But not orange. Orange had absolutely nothing to do with nothing at all. Orange was simply orange. Orange was for his suit which the old man had bought for him. He'd never gotten anything from anyone before that. Orange was for the oranges the mean lady at the fruit vendor sold especially cheap because no one else wanted them. Orange was for him, Naruto, who no one seemed to like and seemed to want to like. He was orange. Orange was him.

Uzumaki Naruto _loved_ orange.

#

By the time he was thirteen, not-so-young Uzumaki Naruto had a chance to practice all he'd learned about Family with his genin team. Though his teammates left much to be desired (and really so did his sensei) Naruto was thrilled. Ecstatic. Jumping off the walls in excitement. Finally! At last! To be part of something close and tight-knit like the quilt on the book he'd read all those years ago. And though it wasn't like the family in the book, Naruto had since learned that families were _different_ but as long as everyone loved everyone else, all was well. So Naruto went to his first team survival training with head held up high and hopes high and that fluttering sinking feeling in his chest and tummy (though this could have been the effect of a pure ramen diet).

Surely, this would work! Kakashi-sensei, even though he was a little—ok, a _lot_ perverted—would make an excellent Daddy and Mommy and then he and Sakura and even that arrogant _teme_ could be Brother and Sister (by this point, Naruto's affection for the pink-haired ninja-in-training had fizzled to physical attraction based on annoyance and his own twisted sense of amusement).

But, Naruto soon discovered, his Family Seven as he sometimes called it, was not to be. Because Family just didn't do _things_ like that. Family did not exclude one member in favor of another. Family did not shower praise on Brother and ignore Sister. Family did not make one feel worthless and the other prized. Family was not left to fend for themselves while Father took Brother away. Family did not make promises only to please Sister's affection for another. Family did not shove shrieking balls of lightening into each other's chests. Family did not abandon one another for wild, twisted dreams that fell from the mouths of snakes. Family just did not operate the way Team Seven did. Or maybe, Team Seven did not operate the way Family did. Either way, Team Seven was no Family. Team Seven wasn't even a team.

It would a while before Naruto believed in Family again.


	2. Friends

**The Ways in Which I Love Thee II**

By: Platanos 2.0

_Disclaimer: Naruto is the legal property of Kishimoto. I do not own Naruto. I, however, do own these ideas and words._

Thank you very much for your patience, reviews and attention. I apologize for the delay. Computer issues got the better of this story. I'm afraid 's bizarre formatting schemes have had their way with this file. I apologize if there is any weirdness.

* * *

There's a saying: _"You don't appreciate something until it's gone."_

Naruto learned the meaning of this adage the hard way. And he hated it. Hated the empty, tight sensation in his chest whenever he remembered to think about it. Hated the anger and rage and frustration that welled up in him when he dreamt about it. Hated that he couldn't tell anyone—not a soul—how he felt. How he wanted nothing more than to drag that arrogant duck-haired freak of a no-good Brother home because dysfunctional family or not, goddamnit, Team Seven was still Family and Family sought out Family even in all the dark, scary places of the world.

* * *

Although it may seem like otherwise, elite Copy-nin Hatake Kakashi does not play favorites. No, not at all.

The proper term is selective.

Having only one eye tends to divide one's vision thus making it physically impossible to focus on more than one student at a time. Consequently, one must be selective. Who do I look at now? Not her. Him. Good. Who do I look at now? Not him. Her. Good.

The fact that genin squads are three-man cells does not help at all. Choosing to train Sasuke in the brief interim during the Chuunin exams was merely a matter of repaying an old debt. His skills as Copy-nin aka Sharingan Kakashi aka That Lazy Bastard were better suited to the moody and sullen orphan because quite simply put, they were cut from the same rather rotten tree. Kakashi saw in Sasuke what none had seen in him: a never-ending, self-destructive, self-fulfilling drive to be the best. To outdo everyone else. And where had that drive gotten him? He'd lost his best friend (if his and Obito's bizarre relationship could be called that), the one woman he could have ever loved, his sensei (who'd doubled as his mother and father) and his life.

Hatake Kakashi was living on borrowed time and it wouldn't be long before someone took what was left of it away. And what else could one do with stolen time but use it to cover up mistakes and regrets no one ever really forgets?

He'd wanted to do right by Obito by setting Sasuke straight and for the most part, it hadn't gone off all too well. In fact it'd been a proper disaster of a venture; the kind of snafu ninja in training and just green out of the academy were warned about and veteran ninjas knew all to well to avoid like snake sannins and curse seals. But failure aside, it didn't change how he felt about any of his genin and it certainly didn't mean that he favored Sasuke over the other two. In fact, the surly teen's attitude dampened his spirits and made even reading Icha Icha Paradise seem droll and pointless at times. The kid was such a kunai-in-the-mud it wasn't even remotely amusing but Kakashi had pressed on. The copy nin had selected Sasuke to be the one mistake he could right because at the time it had seemed like the only mistake he could fix. He'd taken the explosive duck-haired brat under his not so capable wings out of love for the brother he'd so carelessly thrown away thinking that if he made this right—if he could just do this one thing right by Obito, it'd be all OK. Everything would be alright. Sensei's legacy had the blood of Hokages and crazy redheads pumping through him; he'd be fine was Kakashi's reasoning. Sakura was more suited for behind-the-lines medic work; she couldn't possibly benefit from anything he could offer.

Right? Right.

It'd all made sense when he'd worked through it right before the bell test. It'd been like his own little person pep-talk to get himself ready for a team that was about as compatible as Maito Gai and Mitsurashi Anko. Sasuke was his chance to show Obito what he couldn't—didn't have a chance to show all those years ago. 'Have a life Kakashi teme! It ain't all about missions! Breathe easy!' If he didn't take it now, when else would he get such an opportunity? The entire Uchiha clan had been wiped out and future Uchihas did not seem forthcoming considering the only remaining clan member was barely knocking on puberty's door. As long as everything turned out OK and everyone was alright and his debts repaid to the last decent Uchiha, then it was all good. Right? Right.

"Hey Obito…" Kakashi sighed, crouching in front of the memorial stone a year after team 7's notorious bell test.

The skies were blue and cloudless; fairly nice weather considering the third's funeral procession had just concluded. In hindsight, even Kakashi could not explain why he'd chosen his dead teammate of all people to fixate upon but here he was, callused fingers pressed to cold stone that could never capture the warmth vibrancy of a ninja wrongfully cut down in his prime. A slab of rock among a field of thousands dedicated to ninja who'd fallen protecting their home be it on the front lines fighting enemy nin or on the heads of dedicated summons staring true evil in its monstrous, wicked red gaze.

"Naruto's gone again. The Frog Hermit formally selected him as his apprentice so he's off again..." there was a pause as the he struggled to gather his thoughts. "He's gone Obito. They're all gone."

* * *

Naruto left Konahagakure in the aftermath of war.

In the aftermath of losing his brother. In the aftermath of losing his Family. He left it a boy of thirteen years; short, stumpy and rather stupid, to be honest. He returned on the cusp of another war, a taller (but not by much), smarter (again, not by much) and gangly teen. He'd left a lost, confused boy with dreams the size of the great oceans and a heart to match it. He'd left in search of something he thought he had, but didn't really understand. And in that typical Naruto-like way, he returned with so much more. Perched on the highest point in the village, hands on his hips and a smile to rival the sun's stretching his whiskers, he found his heart racing, beating to the rhythm of Jiraiya's, who was currently being pummeled in the North baths and Tsunade's, who was sitting quietly at her desk, waiting for him.

The thought of them made his heart swell. The thought of his friends and the villagers and Konoha in all it's green-greenness made his heart swell.

This was Family. This was Home.

This was his.

His lips twisted, a flash of red in his eyes and whiskers tightening into slits.

He'd be damned if he let anyone, anyone—red-cloaked megalomaniacs and wayward brothers included—threaten that.

* * *

Only three people in the whole world knew this but Naruto thought.

A lot.

It took real brains (and a considerably helping of foolish luck) to hatch half of his pranks and even more to avoid chuunin and even ANBU level ninja for prolonged periods of time. Real brains (and a great deal of false bravado) to declare himself future Hokage in the face of the current Hokage without batting a lash . Though he did not always enjoy it, Naruto thought a good deal of the time. Though he preferred spur of the moment plans to real, solid strategies, he still thought about things. He thought about different things: what it'd be like to be Hokage, what it'd be like living with a perverted hermit for so long, what it'd be like having Kyuubi forcibly ripped from his soul, what'd he'd be like living without the Kyuubi (would he still be a monster?). Most especially, he thought of the future. Thought about his role in the world. Where he stood in relation to others. Where he wanted to stand in relation to others.

When it came down to it, the prospect of spending the rest of his unnatural existence with only a bitterly vindictive demon for company was equal parts terrifying and bleak. He'd spent all of his childhood this way and wasn't keen on going through the rest of his life (if he lived to enjoy it) exactly the same. Even if he had to endure hate-filled stares for the rest of it—even if they were there only out of obligation or duty or whatever— at least he could sleep at night knowing that come morning, yes, someone was there and would be there. It didn't matter who and if they liked him as long as they were there. Just as long as they were there. It didn't matter at all. Not anymore.

Because when it was all said and done, even demons had fellow demons to be with.

So why couldn't he?

* * *

Before Naruto meet the super pervert and critically acclaimed author of the Icha Icha Paradise series, Naruto had never come across the term 'god father.' So the white-haired man with the broad shoulders and creepy giggle was nothing more to Naruto than that: a white-haired man with broad shoulders and creepy giggle who happened to be really, really strong. And it wasn't until a haphazard trek across Fire Country in search of a gambling addicted princess that Naruto find his mind, prone as it was, to thinking of such things. Sneaking curious glances at the large, imposing form of the legendary sannin, trailing behind in a shadow so great it could almost swallow him, wondering what it would be like to be that loved that appreciated despite glaringly repulsive shortcomings. What it would be like to be that confident in your abilities; to know without a doubt that when push came to shove, you could step up and be...well, legendary.

Because, contrary to popular belief, Uzumaki Naruto was not stupid.

Slow, he most surely was, but stupid he was not. And most importantly, Naruto's declaration to become Hokage was not an empty one; it was one that had been researched and studied with an avid fascination bordering on obsession.

So it was no surprise when Naruto stumbled upon articles, data, reports and most importantly, pictures, of one Yondaime Hokage. The Yondaime Hokage. Namikaze Minato.

"Wow…" Naruto had stared at the picture in shock for several silent minutes. "This guy's kinda girly looking…" Long, beyond shoulder length blonde hair the same shade and probably the same texture as his own unruly mane and the brightest blue-blue eyes he had ever seen since staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Jiraiya was in one of his moods. Rambling on and on about the importance of respect and listening to one's mentors. He had been singing the Yondaime Hokage's praises with arms thrown here and there, voice booming and overall effect, exaggerated. The Yondaime Hokage this, the Yondaime Hokage that. Initially, Naruto had been wholly invested in hearing about the man—curiosity and the faint inklings of anger and resentment had his ears and attention entirely devoted to the sannin's words. But after hours of walking, only minutes of training and many more hours of poking fun at his less than adequate ninja skills, Naruto found himself tired.

And annoyed. Very much so.

If the Yondaime Hokage was so great why did he have to seal a tailed beast into him of all people? Why not just kill it?

So he asked and was promptly knocked sideways for his "ignorant insolence." So Naruto kept quiet, eyes glued to the floor as he trudged along unhappily behind his mentor.

Then, words fueled by a sudden cruel streak, Naruto muttered nastily, "I'd say he was girly too if he didn't look so much like me," to which Jiraiya, legendary sannin, stumbled, froze, paled, stuttered, stammered something along the lines of, "you're thinking to much you dumb brat," and was eventually distracted by a buxom brunette with no ass.

"What can I say my boy? Women are contradictions. They've got it up here," gesturing to the chest, "so you'd think that have it back there," patting his rump. "But sometimes they don't. And that, Naruto, is the worst thing of all. Getting your hopes up for nothing."

Naruto rolled his eyes. He was sitting on the other side of the fire, sweating something terrible and bleeding from a thin line of red across his shoulder. He couldn't even feel it. The pain and the wound that is. Kyuubi, he'd discovered, felt pain as intensely as he did; hot and hard. What pained the host some was torture for the parasite.

"Ero-sennin?" he asked quietly.

Jiraiya was on guard again. Naruto and quiet equaled trouble; something the sannin had discovered a scant two hours into their trip.

"If I had any family…any at all you'd tell me about them right?"

Jiraiya sobered, eyes softening. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Of course! If I knew that is." He voice dropped and leaning forward he asked, Why d'you ask?"

Naruto turned his mega-watt, "I'm-trying-to-distract-you-from-my-pain" smile on to full blast. It could have given Gai a run for his money. "No reason." A pause and then, "Jiraiya, you trained the Yondaime Hokage right?"

Jiraiya tensed and then breathing checked, "Yeah. Yes, I did."

"And this woman we're looking for…"

"Tsunade hime," Jiraiya supplied carefully. It was hard to read Naruto; unlike the Uchiha and the Hyuuga, his mask had been forged in demonic fires, which meant it was near impossible to probe much less break

"Yeah, Tsunade, she knew the Yondaime too, right?"

"Yeah…"

"OK." Naruto nodded once and then promptly passed out.

And for the first time since more than a decade before, the sannin and pornography writer extraordinaire found himself tucking in a familiar blonde-haired, blue-eyed ball of energy.

God fathers, as it turned out, were terrible liars but great surrogate fathers.

* * *

Senjuu Tsunade and Uzumaki Naruto were related, but just barely. Their lines had once been connected some decades ago only to be mixed and diluted and distorted beyond recognition after a handful of great Ninja Wars. Tsunade was connected to Naruto by Namikaze Minato who was connected to Tsunade by a long line of long dead half-relatives. Naruto figured this little tidbit of information out in ten seconds flat. Besides him and Ino (who he was definitely not related to, thank Kami), Tsunade was the only other natural blonde in Fire Country. It helped some that Naruto's wind affinity was not in direct opposition to her wood affinity.

Therefore, Naruto's title of "baachan," however inappropriate considering Tsunade's reputation, was fitting.

Of course it also helped that Tsunade knew that Naruto knew and Naruto knew that Tsunade knew he knew.

By the time the Godaime Hokage was instated and neck high in paper work, Naruto had found the two missing pieces to his puzzle: a perverted author and a freakishly strong gambling addict. Very unconventional.

But not all families were alike.

Some were big and small and some looked alike and some didn't and some, well, some were ninja.

* * *

There was a running assumption among the girls that Sasuke loved long hair.

So Sakura, Ino and every other estrogen producing child-birth-capable female within the walls of Konohagakure toiled and troubled to grow out their hair. From pink locks, to gold to green to brown, ladies far and wide, diligently stretched their God-given hair follicles in hopes of someday, one day catching the cool black eyes of the notoriously hard to please last Uchiha. To be quite frank, Sasuke preferred short hair to long and light hair to dark. It was, essentially, going against his blood as Uchiha women were renowned for their inky black hair usually tamed into waist length ponytails and well-groomed braids. It was said to compliment the slenderness of the Uchiha frame. His own mother had been quite a beauty in her day having had the darkest hair among her generation. But Uchiha Sasuke had always been an odd duckling. Late to develop the clan's prized posession and yet destined to rebuild it from the ashes up, Uchiha Sasuke was always one for defying the status quo and proving others wrong (or right) about him.

Hair was no different.

He couldn't explain it and even under threat of painful death and eternity of torture probably never would, but there was something _intensely_ revolting about black hair. Something intensely disturbing about the almost monochromatic contrast between dark, lifeless eyes edged in crow's feet, and just as dark hair parted down the middle. It wasn't something he could quite put his finger on, not that he'd ever tried having forced himself to bury even the most innocent of images of his clan. Yet it haunted him with all the obsessive fervor of a demon. Haunted him whenever he caught a glimpse of his own complexion. Something about black hair and black eyes bleeding into red just didn't quite do it for him.

No, Sasuke wasn't much into brunettes. In his opinion they looked better dead. Dead and quiet so they couldn't flick his forehead and couldn't call him foolish for believing, praying, hoping, _wishing _(goddamnit) that it was all a dream.

But honestly, what did girls have to do with him, Uchiha Sasuke anyway? They were naught but a distraction and utterly useless in the midst of battle. No, no matter how important it was and no matter how fervently he hissed his speeches about restoring his clan, the fact of the matter was that Uchiha Sasuke preferred killing his brother in cold blood to reviving his clan.

Killing Sharingan masters who also happened to have friends in very high places? A lifetime goal, but doable with the right connections and a precisely aimed chidori to the rib cage. Just enough to short out the heart and leave it a twitching gory mess of tissue.

Restoring a clan, in comparison to such a lofty goal, wasn't all that difficult. There was no training involved; no manipulations, no need to run off into the slime-coated arms of a megalomaniac with a very serious aging complex. Really it was quite tedious business when he got down to thinking it over. Clan Restoration was a matter of making babies. Making humans. Afterwards, it was all a matter of waiting for said humans to grow up; waiting for said humans to fully develop mature sharingan and then finally waiting for those wizened sharingan users to pillage the world, wreaking havoc as they made a name for the greatest clan to ever walk across the elemental nations.

And of course making babies was all a matter of timing; one minute—two minute, tops. That sort of humdrum thing. No training or curse seals needed there.

Only sake if it was the wrong girl and love if it was the right one.

* * *

Uzumaki Naruto met Hyuuga Hinata at a time in his life when he couldn't possibly appreciate her for who she was or even who she would be become simply because Uzumaki Naruto did not know appreciation.

Honestly, he had never experienced the feeling of truly, really realizing someone was there for you just to be there. He had never experienced the feeling of someone living just for someone else; no strings attached, nothing expected in return. So with all the tact of a boy struggling to be a man and not a beast with nine tails and red eyes, he'd replied to her kind words with a, "You're weird."

But he'd meant it. He always said what he meant and meant what he said for that was his nindo.

It was only later on the long nights when Ero-sennin was still out peeping and there was only so much he could do with shadow clones that Naruto realized she was not only a good type of weird but a type he liked. Really, truly liked. A type he appreciated. Because she'd been there, even hidden behind that log, head bent and fingers pushing together something fierce, she'd been there just to be there. Just for him. Only for him. To wish him luck, remind of him of his nindo. Remind him of who he was when he couldn't seem to tell the difference between sun-kissed hair and blood-matted red fur. Remind him who he was because damnit, he was Uzumaki Naruto future Hokage of Konohagakure! It had been her. Not Sakura. Not Sasuke. Not Kakashi. Not even the old man had been there.

But she had. She'd been there.

And she'd been there again. Fighting for his nindo. Fighting for his nindo that she'd taken on as her nindo when no one else even bothered to listen. And she'd been there again, hands encased in chakra so bright and fierce it blazed like a lion, fluid movements going up against the almost god-like power of Pein just for him. Been there to nearly die for him. For him.

Almost like...like a clan.

Naruto didn't realize it then, fingers pressed knuckle deep into her blood that faithful afternoon, but he'd already gained one willing member.

And weren't clans like Family? Only bigger.

And sometimes, bigger was better.


End file.
